


Bet your Pa ain't a Ghoul!

by gospursgo



Category: Fallout (Video Games)
Genre: Brotherhood of Steel - Freeform, Grumpy ghoul dad, Murderous girl, Other, Plains Commonwealth, fallout story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 02:58:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8827816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gospursgo/pseuds/gospursgo
Summary: Life in the wasteland of  can be real unforgiving and ruthless. For an old ghoul like Clyde, he believes he's seen the most of it. But when an old friend comes knocking with a stranger in tow and the allure of redemption, can he find what it feels like to feel happiness once again?





	1. A Ghoul's Life in the Wasteland

**Author's Note:**

> Pls note this is my first official fanfiction, so feedback is encouraged.
> 
> Most of these characters are my own.

The warm wind blew around the barren desert, picking up trails of dust and sand as the looming sun glared harshly at the ground below. The searing rays scorched the ground ensuring that no signs of green life could possibly grow once more. Staring from the comfort beneath the shade of his abode, Clyde sighed to himself in relief, thankful for not having to combat the sun’s unbearable light. Out here in the sun baked horizon was where he lived, surrounded by nothing but dirt and endless miles of empty earth. He sat on his favorite chair, rhythmically swinging back and forth on the verandah, creaks from the floorboard escaping with every motion. His humble rickety abode, stood resolute in the sunlight. It really was just a small shack of wood and spare scrap metal holding apart together in resembling something that could barely count as a ‘house’. The state of his dwelling didn’t really matter all that much to Clyde, as long as there was a solid roof over his head and standing walls to keep his privacy then he was happy. God be damned if privacy actually mattered to him, he was out here wasting away in the middle of nowhere and no one in sight. The only neighbors of his were the annoying ass pack of stupid mole rats whom from time to time would raid his crops. He tried to solve this problem by building a perimeter fence around his home but ran into two very concerning issues. One, where the fuck would he get his material from to build the fence, and two, any foundation he tried to dig up to set the fence in would always be inexplicably filled to the brim with the dirt that he had spent the entirety of the previous day digging out. Clyde had half a mind to grab his shotgun and cap those little vermin pieces of shit off. A motivation that he never acted upon however, as he never really could be bothered. Those mole rats weren't exactly trying to kill him anyway, so he just left them alone to their own devices. After all, why waste bullets on a pack of vermin that weren't trying to attack him. His pitiful excuse of a home was probably the only man made structure out here in the area.

Clyde pecked at his decaying skin that was filled with irradiated blisters, worts and scabs. As one of his former colleagues once remarked, _"He looked like a human who got eaten by a deathclaw and then regurgitated minutes later."_ This blessed complexion is what marked Clyde as a ghoul. People like him were affected by way too much radiation as it tore away at their bodies leaving them looking like something out of a cheap horror comic. Everywhere ghouls were ostracized by what was left of society, treated to being lower than the trash that littered the ground, that is if they weren't shot on sight. Which is why Clyde put down his guns and picked up the shovel instead. He tired of all that bullshit, preferring to now settle in the quiet wastes of Kansas where his identity as a ghoul wouldn't be much of a problem.

Its not like he got much company out here anyway, isolated as his dwelling was. In the massive sprawling plains of Kansas state lived few mostly due to the fact that there was next to nothing to be had in this desolate backwater scrap of land. Occasionally he'd get a few trading caravans or weary travellers come around and he'd let them rest and eat under his roof depending on how they reacted to a ghoul farmer. If said people had no problem with him then he'd welcome them and offer the usual wasteland hospitality of irradiated goods and gruff manners. If their reaction was the opposite then he'd tell them to fuck off or punch them square in the face, it was usually both when that happened. He remembers back to one particular night where he had given permission to a roaming trade caravan to camp alongside him for the night, the folk were actually quite decent people, even the caravan guards didn't scrutinize him too much. They asked for a place to hole up in and he allowed them to stay in exchange in for some goods. Other than that first official agreement, there was little conversation between the two parties as Clyde simply went back to his schedule of work as if his house wasn't currently being occupied by a group of distrusting random strangers. That was why it was all the more unusual when one of their troupe came up to him while he was working the water pump, with a warm smile on her face. Well bounding towards him was the more appropriate term and the smile one the woman's face was turning out to be more creepier to him the closer she got.

"hiimcarolsonicetomeetineverseenaghoulbeforeinmylife!" Clyde didn't say anything to this, or rather didn't know what to say to this, whatever the girl just said sped by him like a blur and his only reaction was to stare at her with his rotting mouth on the edge of hanging wide open. "Oh I'm so sorry, Nick always says I act like this too much whenever I meet strangers, but I like to think it as positivity." The girl managed to slow down her speech considerably for Clyde to at least understand what she said but before he could even muster a response Carol blabbered on. "Y'know I always thought that ghouls were scary brain dead monsters that eat brains, like those folk in New Oklahoma say".

Now Clyde was beginning to move from being confused to annoyed, _"Great another ignorant smoothskin who don't know what they're talking about"_. He thought to himself. The girl was beginning to grate on his already fragile nerves. If she didn't care to watch her next words wisely then the whole concept of friendly hospitality could be forgotten and thrown to the dust.

"Dammit Carol, leave him alone" Shouted one of caravan members just in time before the situation could escalate any further as he came running out of Clyde's house.

"Aw but Nick, I just wanted to ask the feller a few questions"

"Questions? What are yo- Aw come on I already told you not pull this sorta shit again". 

"This ain't fair Nick, there ain't no harm in what I'm doing is there?"

"This isn't up for debate Carol, leave the poor man alone and go back inside with the others".

"Bu-"

"NOW CAROL"! Carol tried to make a last stand of defiance at him but under Nick's furious glare she wavered. With a pout and a few incoherent grumbles she stormed off back inside leaving Clyde alone with Nick who sheepishly looked back at him.

"Heh, she's headstrong and naive about most things, but she's a real sweet girl". Clyde found himself agreeing with the first part, but wanted to add a few more features to her resume, like incredibly annoying.

"Look here mister,I really hope ya weren't too offended by her idiocy, she just never really met one o' yer kind before in her life."

_"My kind"_. Thought Clyde, he was a bit insulted by the fact that Nick had so vehemently placed emphasis on the differences between them, but was content to let it go because the man seemed sincere enough.

"It's nothing". Well really it was something, Clyde isn't the sort to forgive and forget any sort of insults towards what he is, even regarding more simpler transgressions such as this one. 

"I hope this don't make things any rougher between us?" Nick asked.

"Nah, y'all are still welcome to bunk here fer tonight". Nick was a decent man and Clyde like him well enough, he considers it a real fortune whenever he meets some more open minded smooth-skins, and for that fact alone he was willing to let this all slide. With that, the conversation ended as Nick went to rejoin his group while Clyde went to rejoin his crops. The following morning saw the caravan move out, Clyde was on his verandah again swinging on his chair as he watched them slowly walk away until they fully disappeared from his view. After a moment of silence, he sighed to himself in contempt and slowly dozed off. It really wasn't that often that decent folk like Nick (and maybe even Carol) came around. He was used to being alienated and prejudiced against for simply being a ghoul, hell it was pretty much the norm nowadays. But people like Nick, well he reminds Clyde of the good old days, back in Texas when he was apart of something much more larger than himself, something that gave him purpose and camaraderie. Of course that was back in the day and there was still farm work that needed tending to.

Then of course you can't forget the foolhardy raider that crawls out from whatever pathetic hole of hell they come from. Its only ever happened to Clyde a few times because no one in their right mind would ever think of the barren wastes of Kansas as being a prime location to become a bandit, largely because there was next to nothing to poach or rob from. On one of those 'raids', Clyde's so called robber took one look around his hut, swore inwardly to himself and then just straight up left wandering back into the the wasteland. Or another occasion was even funnier involving his gun and a whole lotta piss.

Clyde remembered it fondly, back on what was otherwise his typical uneventful evening. He was inside having some supper when the door to his home was thrown back open and there standing in the doorway was perhaps the most disheveled and ragged looking man he'd ever seen before. Said man was near stark naked save for a skin of what Clyde presumed to have once been part of a brahmin barely covering the stranger's private parts, to which Clyde was silently thankful for. Sweat and soot covered the man's sun touched body, he was so red that Clyde might as well have mistaken him for a cherry cola mascot. The man glared wildly at Clyde while brandishing a worn down knife that was littered with countless nicks and dents, waving it around threateningly.

Clyde, unimpressed just remained in his seat, "You have a problem here, or do just need some spare clothes?"

"Shut up and give me everything you have freak!"

A frown entered Clyde's face as soon as the wannabe raider called him a freak. Standing up from his meal at full height, he stared down the desperate raider and threw his arms wide open, "Look here, you sorry sack of shit, if you actually know how to use that butterknife of yours then come at me with everything ya got". 

The raider paused at his words, as if he wasn't expecting to come across any resistance. He probably thought that Clyde was just a defenseless and old decrepit man. Well he couldn't have been more wrong as Clyde stood at least a head taller than the home invader and despite his age was still relatively well muscled, a benefit from constantly working a farm 24/7 he supposed. Well that and the fact that he was an irradiated monstrosity whose rotting skin and monster-like appearance would be enough to intimidate others. 

Still the raider tried to put up a brave facade, "Y-yo-you think I'm scared o' you just cause yer a-a- gh-ghoul". The words struggled to escape his mouth as his grip on the the blade loosened while his hand was madly shaking. Clearly the man's body didn't agree with his sentiment.

Clyde wasn't sure whether to growl in anger at the fact that he was currently being robbed or just chuckle at the fact the fact that said robber was so pathetic that he was near pissing himself. Turns out, that was actually much closer to reality than Clyde thought as the floor beneath the raider was wet from the liquid soaking through his makeshift clothing.

"Are you fucking serious?" Yelled Clyde as he moved from his table towards the now cowering raider. "Stop pissing on my goddamn floor!" This only seemed to scare the raider even more as the waterworks now came down at an even faster rate much to Clyde's anger. Yanking the knife away from the raider, Clyde roughly pushed the intruder out from his home causing the other man to land flat on his face on the dirt while simultaneously making sure not to step on the urine. Clyde moved back inside to a wardrobe that was resting in the side of his house, opening he reached inside a pulled out a weathered hunting rifle. Its smooth wooden handle feeling familiar in his grip. Back outside, the raider was trying to scramble away on the ground, dragging himself by his arms. Apparently something in his legs must've broken when Clyde threw him to the ground.

Well he didn't get very far before having his head blown clean off by Clyde, cause no thug gets to bully him around and get away scot free. And he pissed on his floor as well, its gonna take a while to clean that mess up, or maybe he could just leave it alone, the smell of urine wasn't much of a bother to him anyway.

"Ahhhh, good times". Clyde said to himself with a hint a of a laugh as he reminisced on old days.

* * *

 

“Yup, got another eventful day ahead o’ us”, he muttered as he wearily lifted himself off the chair and off his porch. His eyes squinted in discomfort as his vision was invaded by the bright sun. Next to his house laid a a small patch of funneled land. Sprouts of yellow weed-like plants were growing right out of the earth. _Tatos_ as they were called, were pretty much the only sort of food that Clyde could grow in the harsh climate of Kansas. Normal plants wouldn't have been able to grow in the wasteland, but these weren't normal ones and because of the radiation they grew at an unnaturally fast rate. Kneeling down into the makeshift garden, Clyde began plucking the ripe goods from their stocks, it was near monotonous and automatic for him at this point. Same old shit everyday.

Next he began working on the water pump, the contraption every once in a while would stop flowing water and so he would get to working on it with hammers and duct tape. Because duct tape fixes everything, at least that was what old Paladin Clemmons used to say. That old fart was one of Clyde's worst enemies, in a figurative sense by the way, the man was a strict adherent to the Brotherhood of Steel doctrine that it made him near unapproachable and unfriendly to most, you could probably ask what the tenants were and he'd repeat it word for word in perfect form.That exactly was why Clyde befriended the paladin, they saw eye to eye with one another on a certain level because they were both social pariahs to an extent. Much as an estranged xenophobic BOS member who was a little to eccentric for his own good and a broody ghoul could possibly get along with each other. Seriously, it was a wonder to Clyde why the old paladin never acted on the urge to kill him long ago. 

The sun was setting slowly beneath the horizon, and Clyde had just finished storing away the tatos and bottles of dirty water away into his fridge. The fridge actually wasn't functional at all, but it still served to be a neat place for Clyde to store his food and drinks in. Making sure to keep a few of the tatos in his hands he closed the fridge and moved towards the kitchen getting ready to cook his favorite meal, which was actually the only meal he knew how to cook. Tato soup, plain tasting yet filling. Cutting up the tatos he threw them into a cast iron pot and then filled it halfway with boiling water. The paste of the vegetables accumulating the rest of the pot. Before he continued any further he moved to the side bench before him and turned on the old dusty radio that sat atop its surface, pressing button number 7, his favorite channel.The radio fizzled to life, and a cacophony of old world music erupted from the device and was soon accompanied by a hearty voice

"Hello to all you magnificent people out there in the Commonwealth, this is your dutiful host, Samuel Scarsbourough or Sammy for short".

"Hey there Sam". Clyde said absentmindedly as he stirred away noting how he was just in time to hear the show.

"Brought to you by the swing king KACY Entertainment Radio Station, doling out only the best classical tunes of the old world".

"Starting off tonight, we got a fancy tune dedicated for all you hard sluggers of Kansas." Clyde perked up a bit at the recognition.

"We got a favorite of yours right here, ladies and gentlemen, 'Pistol Packin Mama'!".

A chorus of trumpets and choir of voices graced the the radio as the song came on at full blast.

"Lay that pistol down baby,

oh lay that pistol down,

Pistol packin mama,

lay that pistol down".

Clyde couldn't help but shuffle his feet in rhythm to the beat of the jolly song as kept mixing the tato soup. Soon enough he found himself singing the song as well.

After the last lyrics of the song ended so too was the soup and Clyde poured some of its contents into a wooden bowl, hips still shaking from the song. Bringing the bowl over to his table he began eat from his dinner when the next segment on the radio caught his ear as Sammy came back on air.

"I don't know if you folks are well educated in worldly matters, but this one right here in our state of the Plains Commonwealth is certainly gonna interest a lotta you for sure".

Clyde was focussing more on his soup than the radio at this point, there weren't any songs currently playing and whenever Sammy brought up something he found interesting to his listeners, it was usually bunch of over-exaggerated stuff. Yet what Sammy said next was enough to cause Clyde to spit out his food in shock.

"Those hard canned folks known as the Brotherhood of Steel have just soldiered their way towards New Oklahoma all the damn way from Texas".

"The Brotherhood again huh". Clyde muttered in disbelief, a small part of him immediately got worried, paranoid if they came for him. But the rest of him, the more rational and realistic side managed to pull itself together and stablize his nerves. _"They ain't here for you, you ain't that important, ya can't be"_. He thought to himself. The Brotherhood was a chapter of Clyde's life that he desperately wanted to forget, besides they probably think he's dead anyway.

"The reports from Oklahoma are messy to say the least, but the only true fact that we know is that the mayor has voluntarily let these tin heads inside town".

_"This just keeps getting better and better doesn't it"_. Clyde quipped as his attention was now solely on the radio and Sammy's words.

"I'm saying it as it is right now folks, this is some fishy business thats going on, you all know of the infamy these so called 'Paladins of the Wastelands' have accumulated for themselves". Sammy continued. "They claim they want help us and protect us but their words are nothing but silver tongued lies."

Clyde felt a little offended at Sammy's lack of knowledge, the Brotherhood were never benevolent wasteland saviors, nor did they ever claim to be. They were just a bunch of over zealous, tech obsessed assholes who'd rather stay holed up in their bunkers rather than actually doing something that mattered.

"Why would they want to help us all of a sudden, what do they have to gain from all this."

"If the Brotherhood of Steel themselves are listening to this then I will tell you now, don't expect to bully us around like you've done to those poor people of Texas. Here, in the Plains, we're made of sterner stuff".

With that Clyde moved up to silence the radio, deciding that he has had enough political bullcrap for the day and promptly went to sleep.

 

* * *

 

**Somewhere in the deserts of Kansas, the Plains Commonwealth.**

Clouds of dust trailed a fast moving figure as it sped across the wastes under the night sky. The distinct sound of a motor roaring through the air as it left its tracks in the sand behind it. Machines like this were a rare sight in the wasteland, most of them no longer being functional or just too high maintenance to keep. The car continued driving at a near breakneck speed, the driver inside not willing to slow down. Dangling from the rearview mirror were a set of dog tags that glimmered in the darkness.

Inscribed on one of the tags read, "John, R Clemmons. Senior Paladin. BOS." While the other was decorated with the BOS insignia.

A slight shuffle of movement came from the back row causing the driver to momentarily look back, "Don't worry, lass we're nearly there."

Emerging from a bundle of blankets, a young girl poked her head out from the row to take a gander at where they were headed. "I still don't even know where 'there' is." She complained. Her eyes were drowsy as marked by the creases that rested beneath them.

The driver only huffed in annoyance,"We're going to meet an old friend of mine".

The girl looked as if she wanted to continue her questioning but an abrupt yawn took the words right out of her mouth and sent her back to sleep.

The driver smiled to himself, as this happened, a tiny warmth entering within him as the sight of her peacefully dozing allowed to relax a little, loosening his crazed grip on the car handle. 

At this rate, they should be at their destination some time in the morning.

"Clyde, i hope you haven't turned feral yet, because you're about to get an unexpected visit".

 


	2. An Unexpected Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clyde gets a visit from an old friend of his who needs his help. Long ago Clyde swore to himself that he was no longer getting involved with matters such as these. But a certain look in the young girl's eyes was compelling him to help. Ah fuck, he was going to regret this soon wasn't he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do ghouls need to eat?

Morning came once again and Clyde struggled to rise out of his bed, failing to stifle a yawn. Sloppily lacing on his boots and slipping on his grime covered clothing, Clyde groggily walked outside his home to breath in the morning air. Making his way towards his rocking chair he plopped himself onto it, arms rested on both sides as he shifted back and forth.

Except that wasn't the case. Far off into the distance he could make out a tiny dust cloud zooming through the wastes. A few seconds passed as he realized that it was only growing larger as time passed. Whatever it was, it was heading straight for him. Immediately springing into action Clyde raced back inside his home to grab his hunting rifle from the wardrobe. Going back to his kitchen bench he shuffled around until he opened the exact drawer he was looking for. Situated inside were several 32. rounds and Clyde picked up everyone one of them and started loading them into the clip of his rifle, the remaining ones he stuffed into the shorts of his pants.

"Maybe I'm just being too fucking paranoid", a part of Clyde entailed, after all they could potentially be another caravan band. But something about this reeked of danger to his instincts. He'd been living too long in the wasteland to believe that folk would head outta their way just to make simple conversation. And it wasn't like his home was a trading hotspot, the only reason others stayed at his home was because they'd accidentally stumbled across it and desperately needed some rest. Right now, whoever was heading towards him had at least two reasons for coming and neither of them were to Clyde's liking. Either this mysterious soon to be guest actually turned out to be the BOS he heard about from the night before looking to re-conscript him into their ranks, or it was someone who needed Clyde to do something personal, and the only cause for this was because Clyde owed that particular someone a favor. Clyde was fearful of the Brotherhood but he also hates being indebted to someone even more. He couldn't exactly remember being on someone's tab, maybe it was Norman from New Oklahoma, Clyde still hasn't paid his bills to that sleazy asshole. But he also doubted that Norman would go all the way out of Oklahoma to Clyde's little dwelling in Kansas just to chase up a bar bill.

Looking back outside, the mystery guest was still approaching at rapid speeds and Clyde figured that they'd be at his doorstep within 6 minutes or so. The view of what was causing the dust cloud was beginning to become more clearer as it drew nearer and Clyde could get a better idea of what was coming.

"Is that... a car?!" He exclaimed in disbelief. Wanting to make sure he hurried back to his rocking chair as beside it laid a small lockbox that Clyde held a few utility items in. Flipping open the lockbox he scrounged around its chamber of contents until his hand found what he was searching for. A small, lead lined set of binoculars, Clyde raised it up to eye level to see it it was still in reliable conditions.The peripheral glass was stained with dust and cracks, telling of their state of neglect. Despite all that, Clyde could still use it and peering through them he now got a clearer view of who was approaching him.

He noted with raw astonishment that it indeed was a car, a four wheel automobile that was slick and smooth in shape. It's midnight paint skin standing out in the middle of the desert. Judging from design, Clyde concluded that it was of the Chryslus Corvega brand of cars. Fancy pre-war vehicles that only the rich had the benefit of driving. Clyde had come across one the broken down factories that used to produce these road wonders. Of course all of the cars in the factory were dysfunctional and beyond repair having been sitting around for more than a few centuries, leaving behind only mechanical skeletons of their former glory. Clyde felt a little envious, a bit of bile rising up his throat as he continued purveying the car. He always considered himself to be an admirer of mechanical design and engineering, always wondering what it would've been like to have enjoyed a ride in one of these beauties. Saying that these things were rare was at the very least an understatement, so it was a marvel to him that there was one driving towards him right now.

He now had at least some vision into who was driving the car and could make out a male in the drivers seat. Other than that he couldn't see anyone else in the car and there were no signs of anything following the vehicle. No doubt at this distance, the driver could easily see Clyde now standing on the porch with a rifle in hand. A pang of suspicion crept up Clyde's spine as the car approached ever closer, he no longer needed the binoculars to see it. It seemed to Clyde that the driver intended no harm as the corvega slowed down in speed, indicative that the stranger didn't want violence. Clyde however, wasn't willing to show trust to a random stranger and slowly pointed his rifle at their general direction. The driver didn't seem to fazed about this as he drove onwards until the corvega was just a few metres out from Clyde's home. The sounds of the motor came to an abrupt end as the driver parked the car into rest. Clyde kept his finger ready on the trigger and his sights trained on the driver , whose face was silhouetted by the vehicle's rooftop.

The tension in the air was palpable between the two men, and Clyde gritted his teeth in to yell out,

"Whoever you are asshole, step outta the corvega. Hands empty and up in the air".

He added for a more threatening end to his greeting.

"If you even think of trying anything smart, I will blow your head clean off fore ya even get to scream".

The driver slowly complied, opening the door and setting his feet out while raising both his hands to show that they were empty while issuing a response to Clyde, a voice that brought the ghoul old memories.

"Not many people are knowledgable of what this ere beauty is called, but I guess I shoulda expected that a grease monkey like you would know everything about these models huh".

Clyde near dropped his gun as he heard that, countless questions beginning to swarm around in his mind as the driver revealed himself  in the basking sunlight, sporting a leather vest and pants and smiled a toothy grin decorated by a bushel of overgrown hair that surrounded his mouth at Clyde whom only gaped in shock in return.

"Its been a while hasn't it Clyde"?

"Clemmons?"

* * *

**City of New Oklahoma**

If one were to ask Betty about what she liked living in New Oklahoma, then she would answer that it was the lack of guns and thugs. Ever since mayor Ashcroft came to office, things in the city have gotten a whole lot better for everyone. He had immediately began pursuing for more more men to join the city's security force and also gathered all of the city's venders and business folks together to form what he called a 'workers union'. Betty didn't exactly know what meant, but she did know that they were making a good amount of caps for the city and soon enough it no longer had to rely on those trade caravans for supplies. Thanks to Ashcroft, New Oklahoma could now independently stand on its own two feet and the people loved him for it.

The city of New Oklahoma itself was situated within the heart of old Oklahoma in the state city's former business district. Decades ago, some settlers migrating in from Texas came here and started to form their very own community. They lived within the still standing towers that allowed them to live in safety from the packs of feral ghouls that roamed the streets below. Soon enough it began to evolve from a small community of settlers into a bustling and thriving network of wastelanders and merchants alike. The people began to construct a series of makeshift bridges between the towers, made from debris they found lying around. New Oklahoma was built between the space of four still standing towers which were connected by the bridges forming a distinct square shape. As years went by, these bridges were improved upon, becoming more wider, larger and sturdier in design to the point where some people even began to set up shop or live on the sides of these bridges. Then the settler's began adding their own designs to each of the towers, one tower being the commons district where settlers lived in apartments, adjacent to it was the market district where the city's markets and vendors resided in. Then there was the the guard tower where the security guards resided, it is also where the Brotherhood now stays in as their base of operations in the city.This tower was where all the city's prisoners were kept in. Finally came the royals tower where most of the more wealthier upper class citizens and business owners of New Oklahoma lived, in their lavish well maintained complexes. It was also where Mayor Ashcroft lived, right up at the top in his very own penthouse. Each of the four towers were connected to ground level via a system of pulley powered elevators which were about the floor size of a house allowing them to carry heavy loads of people and cargo up and down.

Betty herself was born in New Oklahoma, her parents being one of the original inhabitants of the city. They raised her in one of the cramped apartments of the Commons Tower. It was small and crowded but comfy and safe enough for her to have lived a happy childhood. There was rarely any crime in the city thanks to Ashcroft's new force of his own personal police.

Which was why it was all the more bewildering as to why their beloved mayor openly agreed to letting in the Brotherhood of Steel inside their home. It hasn't even been a full day yet, and already there's been scuffles breaking out between the city's inhabitants and the foreign soldiers. Even one of her own neighbors, Morris who worked the butcher's stall down in the market got into a fight with one of the Brotherhood men. Morris said that it all started over the matter of those assholes wanting to requisition some of his supplies. He refused and as a consequence came home with a black eye and several broken bones.

By his words, "Those tin head sons of bitches threatened me into giving them my own goods".

Betty could only shake her head in contempt as she passed a patrol of those Brotherhood soldiers in the bazaar, though she made sure to make it subtle so that that they wouldn't attack her. They were definitely imposing in their bulky power armor and being armed to the teeth with advanced energy weapons and multitude of heavy guns. Mostly everyone else in the city made sure to stay out of their way, well except for the young boy that had now jumped in front of the patrol's way. Silence filled the area as the Brotherhood patrol stopped in their tracks before the kid who stood their way with his eyes set hard upon them and his fists clenched. One of the soldiers knelt down to his knees still managing to tower above the boy.

"Hey kid, you wanna scram before you get yourself hurt? Or may you just need to someone to help change you're diapers". His colleagues seemed to laugh at his joke while it only seemed to infuriate the kid even further as his face seemed to redden. This only made the pack of soldiers laugh even more.

"Bahahaha, this shit is rich, come on kid what are you gonna do? Punch me?!"

"You assholes are gonna get whats coming to you if you don't leave our city", the kid threatened.

"Oh? And what happens if we don't?" Chuckled the same soldier.

Betty was just about to ask them not to hurt the boy when all of a sudden he pulled out his pocket a small glowing object and pressed a button on its side triggering an ominous beeping noise. "Father Cromwell sends his regards".

The soldier only stared at this before muttering, "Oh shit". Then before any of them could react a giant explosion covered where the two once stood in knocking Betty flat on her back. Everything was a blur to her, she could hear distant screams and people coming towards her before all she knew was darkness.

* * *

 Clyde stared in disbelief at the sight of Senior Paladin Clemmons standing before him. He nearly even brought his hand across his chest to salute his superior out of reaction. Nearly though, and a scowl came across his face when he stopped himself from doing so as Clemmons moved towards him. The old paladin looked so different to Clyde then he did back in the day. Clemmons was a man who lived his life by the code of the Brotherhood and despite his personality was still the cutting figure of a loyal Brotherhood soldier always clean shaven and tidy. Seeing him now looking like your typical wasteland beggar with an unkempt beard thats grown out of proportions and greasy grime covered skin. Hell, he looked a totally different man all together. 

"What the hell are YOU doing here?!" Demanded Clyde with a sharp edge in his voice, although he had lowered his rifle.

"Is that how you greet an old friend, you brainsucker". Clyde grimaced at that nickname  to which the old man would always refer to him as in reference to the fact that ghouls were pretty much zombies. Clyde liked to remind himself of the humanity that still existed within his monstrous exterior. A personal scar that Clemmon's oft liked to exploit just to get a kick out of the ghoul.

"Thats how I greet people who I thought I explicitly made clear to them, that I never wanted to see their sorry ass again".

"Hah, ya still haven't changed a bit". 

Before the old sour reunion between the two of them continued, one of the back doors of the corvega opened and outside hopped a young girl who made her way to Clemmon's side. Clyde stared in confusion at the sight of her dressed in a bright blue jumpsuit with yellow tracings that formed along the zipper and waistline. Her raven black hair was immaculately clean and was neatly tied in a tiny ponytail behind hear head. Her skin was next to pale white as if she had never been tested by the Commonwealth's harsh sun before in her life. A thought came to Clyde's mind as the girl that stood before him must've been one of those folk from them pre-war vaults, the suit she was wearing was exclusive only to these people and he was guessing from her looks that she must not have been living in the wasteland for long. What the hell is Clemmons doing with her?

"Is that kid a vault dweller?" Implored Clyde.

"Eh, she's a whole different topic thats gonna require a good meal to talk over. In fact this kid is the reason I came to you in the first place".

Seemingly exasperated with Clemmons answering for her the girl spoke up, "Hey! This 'kid' can talk so just shut your senile old mouth closed". Clyde raised his eyes at the blatant disrespect of the little girl who clearly had an unrestricted potty mouth.

"And to answer your question mister Brainsucker, yeah, I was raised in a vault though I doubt you even know what it really is".

Clyde's forehead creased in irritation at the use of that term being directed towards him and seriously considered barking off at her to see if she would still keep up that scarce of snarkiness.

"Ooookaaayyy, you two let's just play nice for christ's sake, you've only just met". Clemmons stepped in trying to diffuse a nasty situation from occurring. The old paladin moved to Clyde's side putting a hand on his shoulder, "Clyde, I know she can come off as a bit unbearable but she can be real sweet girl if ya just warm up to her. I haven't even properly introduced you two to each other". He motioned to the girl, "Clyde this is Laura, Laura, vice versa".

"I'm only gonna consider playing nice if the little brat apologizes to me right now!"Clyde growled.

"Alright sure, Laura apologize to him right now please".

Laura however disinterested with what was going on only scoffed, "I don't see how this old decrepit zombie is gonna help us at all. Why did we even come here anyway?"

Clyde tried to retort but was gently shoved down by Clemmons who had a pleading look on his face. Clyde could only relent to his old friend and said nothing as he walked back inside trying to ignore the smug grin that transfixed over Laura.

“Hey aren’t you gonna hear us out”? Yelled Clemmons to which Clyde pretended to ignore and continued walking.

“Dammit man, we need your help”.

“I thought I already told you Clemmons, I don’t want anything to do with the damn Brotherhood, I’m through with that life”.

Laura spoke up, “You also tell him that you’re damn coward”?

Clyde rounded upon her furiously, “You wanna repeat that you little shit”? He was however halted by Clemmons who managed to grab ahold of the ghoul and held him back with a grunt. 

“CLYDE, please calm down, the both of you just fucking cool it for goodness sake. Laura I understand that you’re skeptical of him but just give him a chance, the two of us have been through hell and back together and I wouldn’t trust anyone else to have my back in a fight. And Clyde, I understand that you wanna forget anything to do with the Brotherhood but I am asking you as a friend, not your superior for some help.”

Sagging his shoulders, Clyde relented while Laura palpably shrank down. He looked at Clemmons and said solemnly, “Alright, for old times sake I’m all ears now.”

A smile plastered over Clemmons face, “Knew you wouldn’t be able to resist my charm”.

“Shut it with the crap and just tell me why you’re here already.”

“We need your help to get Laura to New Oklahoma, if we don’t then she’s gonna die. Now look here Clyde, if you want no part in this then I can completely understand that but at the very least let us stay here for the night then we’ll be outta you’re hair come morning”.

“I don’t have any hair”. Grumbled Clyde in response but he leaned down on the charred wooden railing of his verandah to contemplate Clemmons’ request. Clemmons stared intently at the ghoul with large watery eyes trying to pull a sort of puppy face to win him over, one that would probably end up in Clyde’s nightmares, it really wasn’t a good attempt. Meanwhile Laura glared daggers at him and he replied in kind with the same gesture.

Then facing Clemmons he finally made his decision, “Alright, you came all this way for me, the very least i can do is let you stay here for the night. As to join you in yer little quest, well Im still a bit undecided on that so I’ll let you know tomorrow. But before that can happen you gotta tell me whats wrong with the girl first”.

Clemmons only goofily smiled at him, “It’s gonna take pretty long story to tell you all the details, one that I would be happy to tell”. This elicited a small chuckle from Laura. Clyde however wasn’t willing to deal with any of it right now.

“I’m sure that yer story is real interesting and all, but it can wait till supper”. 

* * *

“So lemme get this straight, this girl is a genetically enhanced super soldier created by the Brotherhood”? Clyde asked as the three of them now sat at his dinner table as night came around.

“Yup”. Was Clemmons simple answer as he enjoyed his tato soup.

“And out of the pity of yer heart you stole her-“

“Rescued her”. Corrected Clemmons

“Yeah rescued whatever, from the Brotherhood, and now they’re chasing you all the way to New Oklahoma”.

“Yup thats pretty much the full picture”.

“Going back to my earlier question, whats killing the girl”?

A flash of uncertainty came over Clemmons and he looked to Laura first before saying anything although it seemed that she was going to answer for him.

“I’m whats killing me, well more specifically its my imperfect genetic code. It’s slowly degrading my body and obliterating the cells that make me up”. Noticing Clyde’s blank look on his face she added,”In other words, I’m dying from the inside”.

It seemed clear to Clyde that Laura was obviously uncomfortable talking about the subject of her impending expiry date as evident by her manic fidgeting around. Clemmons seemed to notice this as well and stepped in for her, “That’s why we need to get to New Oklahoma as fast as possible”.

“Whats waiting for you in New Oklahoma”?

“Something that’ll save her”. Was Clemmons vague response much to Clyde’s annoyance.

Clemmons talked on, “Anyways some years after you decided to leave us, the Brotherhood came across an old abandoned pre-war vault, specifically vault 201. At least we thought it was abandoned till we actually opened it up.”

“Hold on a sec, Elder Attis was fine with this expedition? Last time I remember the old coot didn’t even let anyone step a foot outside the bunker”.

“Elder Attis is dead”.

“So who’s the new head honcho then”.

“Verna”.

As soon as the name left Clemmons mouth it brought a scowl to distaste to Clyde’s face, that hateful bitch was a figure of Clyde’s past that he wanted to forget and by judging from Laura’s similar reaction she thought the same thing as well. Vera was one of the chapter’s senior paladins and was suffice to say a very staunch traditionalist with an extreme xenophobic attitude. Clyde was often the target of her hate and had to suffer her endearing bitchiness. Yeah she was a real cold hearted bitch.

“Back to the topic at hand, when we delved into the vault we discovered the place’s original inhabitants though they didn’t exactly fit the bill of your typical vault dweller. When we found them, they were locked in some sort of derelict storage room. There were 12 of ‘em in total, all being suspended in these sort of tubes which were filled with radiation”.

Clyde raised his eyebrows at that, “And you expect me to believe that these folks could survive being exposed to that much radiation”?

“Thats exactly my point here Clyde, they weren’t people when we found them, they were only embryos”.

“Wait wha-you mean as in unborn babies”?!

“The correct term is fetuses and yes that is what they were. When we hit up the overseer’s terminal, the data logs he left behind told us exactly what kind of sick gig they were running here. Vault Tech was trying to breed a sort of bio-enhanced version of the human being and they got it in their crazy minds that a prolonged exposure to pure radiation from the very moment of conception would be able to achieve this. Now I don’t exactly know much about the science behind this but suffice to say it worked. When the Brotherhood assumed control of the experiment we immediately accelerated the growth rate of these subjects since they weren’t even supposed to reach the infant stage till 2201.” Clemmons continued on though Clyde did notice that his tone went a bit darker, “The Brotherhood raised all twelve of em and put them through a very harsh and rigorous upbringing to train them into their very own super soldiers, the things those children went through at the hands of their trainers were horrible to say the least.”

“You should know, you were one of them”. Interjected Laura and Clemmons’ gaze focussed onto his food in what seemed to be shame.

“Typical”. Clyde muttered under his breath just quietly enough so that Clemmons couldn’t him though he didn’t notice Laura’s eyes shining towards him. By this point he wasn’t surprised that the Brotherhood would stoop so low as to rely on what was essentially child soldiers, super soldiers or not. He had near considered on spouting out exactly what he had in mind to Clemmons about the project but elected to keep his mouth shut because he didn’t want to have to deal with an argument.

The atmosphere around the dinner table was unbearably quiet for Clyde after that, as unusual as it seemed since he eats alone for most other nights. But with two other people sitting with him, he expected it to be a bit more, well, lively. Yet it was only an awkward silence that permeated their ‘discussion’ with Clemmons to engrossed with the food in front of him and Laura giving him what he could only describe as the longest cold shoulder he’s ever faced before. Clyde dare not even put out his radio for fear of what Clemmons reaction might be to the fact that he enjoyed singing. He really didn’t need to give the old man more fuel to annoy him.

Wanting to strike up a new point of conversation Clyde turned to Laura and began, “So if you’re some kinda super soldier then does that mean you have powers or somethi-“ He was interrupted by the sudden movement of one of his silver forks swiftly zooming past just a mere inch from his face thrown by Laura, landing with a solid thud behind him. Turning back his head he saw that the fork embedded itself on one of his old posters, right on the face of a woman cheerfully holding up a bottle of Nuka Cola. Looking back at Laura, Clyde tried to mask his apparent shock but it was of no use as she could easily spot out his surprise and greeted him with a smirk. Clyde couldn’t help put smile back, it was a good throw after all.

“So Mr Brainsucker, are you going to bring out you’re radio or do you prefer to have lifeless stale dinners such as this one.” She asked.

The smile on Clyde’s face was immediately replaced wit ha frown at the mention of his unwanted nickname and also at the fact that she somehow knew he had radio which attracted the attention of Clemmons.

“Woah, woah, you have a radio”? Clemmons inquired with a malicious grin.

It was Laura who obliged him with an answer, “Yeah right inside the second drawer by the end on his kitchen.” She turned to Clyde with a smile,”I saw you put it away when we came in”.

Without Clyde’s permission Clemmons bounded over to his drawer and heartily pulled out the radio and began to browse it channels. Clyde silently cursed to himself as music graced the small living room and Clemmons jiggled around like a headless dog while Laura clapped him on. From what he could gather the girl was still very much sore from her past upbringing and now that he bothered to examine her more closely, it was all very telling. The way she always held her shoulders upright and tense all the time told him that she was always on guard. Even here in his house with no one watching them she would occasionally flick her eyes outside the windows checking them. For a split moment their eyes met and staring into her pitch black irises he saw only one thing, fear.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah this took longer than it should've, I stupidly ignored the advice of writing my chapter in the archive website itself instead of writing it on another platform and then just copy pasting it onto the website. But stupid lil ol me ignored and lost half the chapter when my chrome decided to freeze up on me so yeah, not doing that again.

**Author's Note:**

> This 1st chapter is sorta like a Pilot. Just meant to show off Clyde's character and set up the events of the story.
> 
> not sure if i got my info on the plains commonwealth correct or not so i would appreciate if someone could find some more extensive info about that area of the fallout universe.
> 
> New Oklahoma is a city of my own creation btw


End file.
